Where there is life
by angel1983
Summary: Tag to S1E6 - The Exiles... Heavy Aramis centric


**A.N. Ok it's official. I need to stop watching Musketeers before it takes over my life completely.. If it already hasn't...**

 **This one is another episode tag and completely unrelated to my WIP's. It's again Aramis centric. I really need to stop tortouring the poor man... Anyway this is related to episode 6 from S1 - The Exiles.**

 **And guys please note the story talks about a loss of a child so please do not read this if that is something which upsets you.**

 **A huge thank you to all those who have read and reviewed my other stories... I hope you enjoy this...**

 **And guys this story was written in about a half hour so it may contain errors and if it does I shall make every effort to correct them. Thank you so much to Deana for showing me how to do that without removing my story**

 **As always anything you recognise does not belong to me.**

"Are you sure about this?"

The way Athos had posed the question made Aramis' heart stop for half a second. There was no way the older man could… Despite the years of friendship Aramis had revealed very little of his past to the others and Athos could not have found out… No the loss of his child was not something even Porthos who knew him best knew anything about.

The question had to be innocent enough. Now it was his own reactions that were betraying him. Athos had to know that something more than doubts about the plan's success were going through his mind. He cursed himself for giving his emotions away so easily.

"Yes I'm sure", he managed to get out pleased to note that his voice at least had been steady. Or not, judging by the look on Athos' face. Thankfully however the other man decided not to comment on his odd behaviour and instead nodded agreeing with him.

"Good. Then all that remains is to tell Agnes…", he trailed off then sighed understanding what Aramis hadn't said. They weren't going to tell Agnes anything.

So Athos hadn't known. Aramis breathed a sigh of relief at that. Good. This was good.

"I will tell her", he stated his tone leaving no room for argument and Athos nodded reluctantly and could only watch when Aramis rode out to the bridge and the battle against Vincent's men.

For a relatively triumphant mission – they had after all managed to keep baby Henri away from the machinations of both the Cardinal and Marie de Medici – the mood amongst the Inseparables wasn't exactly cheerful. Normally a successful mission would find them drinking and toasting each other, generally celebrating in relief at a tavern or in one of their rooms. Even with the fact that they had an infant to care for – for which thankfully Constance and surprisingly enough Aramis had taken up majority of the responsibility – they would have at least indulged in some form of merry making; tempered yes but they would have at least shared a glass of wine in each others company. This time however there was nothing. And everyone, even Constance if the looks she threw in his directions were clues enough, was well aware that the reason for this had something to do with Aramis.

The marksman himself felt powerless to do anything about the fact that he was behaving oddly enough to provoke suspicion in his friends, however all he seemed to be able to think of was the anguish Agnes must be going through at the loss of her child when baby Henri was in fact alive and well. And Aramis was the one who had put her through that. What's more he was doubly guilty simply because he knew exactly what she would go through when he had suggested the plan.

The pain of loosing a child was not something he would wish on his worst enemy and for him to have caused a naïve and innocent women like Agnes who had just lost her husband to go through something like that… He could only hope that when she and her son were finally reunited she could find it in her heart to forgive him.

And to his joy she had. She had even thanked him for the safe return of her child and maybe just maybe there could have been something more. The longing was there on both their parts and maybe they could have learnt to love each other but in his heart Aramis had known he could never leave his brothers behind.

Still it had been a nice dream…

Athos waited a week before he decided to confront the marksman. Even though Agnes and baby Henri had been reunited and were even now getting ready to start a new life somewhere, Aramis' morose mood still hung about him like a cloak. Athos was well aware that all he had were vague suspicions and unfounded theories from the odd behaviour of one of his closest friend's. He had tried telling himself that if he was wrong about this the whole thing could turn out to be a disaster. What's more he would be causing unnecessary pain to someone he loved like a brother. Still, those traitorous thoughts wouldn't leave him until he actually decided to do something about it. Accordingly he made a plan to confront the other man and recruited Porthos into it.

Despite the fact that Aramis knew his brothers were planning something he was still taken by surprise when he was dragged off by Athos and Porthos to the former nobleman's quarters. He supposed he should be thankful they had at least decided to leave D'Artagnan out of it.

Half an hour and two fell glasses of wine later and Aramis decided he didn't know if he should be amused or irritated. Ever since they had made it to Athos' place his friends had done everything they could to pretend it was a normal evening and Aramis would have almost believed them; except for the fact that the other two had spent the entire evening exchanging glances as if daring each other to be the first one to confront him. If they actually thought they were being subtle about it the idea was laughable.

Aramis knew he had two choices. He could either shut them down or tell them what was bothering him. He didn't find either of his choices to be pleasant ones. If he did refuse to open up he knew for a fact that they'd accept it. Neither of them would be happy about it; however they would also let him be. Athos might even understand. If ever there was a man who didn't want to open up about his past it was the leader of their merry band.

If on the other hand he decided to tell them everything. Aramis wasn't sure if he'd ever be ready to talk about it, but if he couldn't pour his heart out to his brothers, who else could he talk to. Decision made he turned to interrupt some innocuous story Porthos had been telling of which he hadn't heard a word of anyway.

"I was sixteen when I lost my child", he declared loudly over Porthos' voice. His announcement had the effect of a cannon going off. If the circumstances had been anything else, Aramis would have found himself laughing. Athos' and Porthos' imitation of a fish out of water certainly was funny. To say they had been stunned was an understatement.

All Porthos could manage was a "Say tha' again". Aramis couldn't be serious could he? 'Damn!' he thought 'Athos had been right'. He hadn't wanted to believe the older man when he had revealed what he suspected was the reason for their friend's foul mood.

Athos for his part had successfully forced his features into a neutral expression after hearing Aramis reveal what he had in all fairness been expecting ever since their last mission. But still considering the idea was one thing; actually hearing it confirmed out loud was another thing entirely. He felt his heart go out to the younger man at the thought of what he had had to endure when he had been barely a child himself.

Aramis was struggling. He had thought this would be easy. That when he had finally revealed the truth his heart would feel lighter and he would actually feel better. Instead his heart felt like it was breaking in two. He was feeling the loss of his child all over again. It felt as if he had been run through with a sword. Repeatedly.

His throat worked furiously as he tried to battle back the tears however, it was a battle he was always going to lose. He felt the moisture trickle down his cheeks and into his beard and jumped to his feet. He felt the sudden urge to move. Get out. Run from the pain. No matter he knew he couldn't run from this. No matter he knew how illogical he was being. All he knew was that he needed to put some distance between himself and the news he had just delivered.

His movement though seemed to drag both his brothers out of their respective stupors. Well aware that Aramis had chosen flight, Porthos approached the marksman cautiously as if he were a skittish colt and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. His hold was loose enough that Aramis could push him off if he really wanted to and still walk away, however for now at least the marksman had stopped moving.

Athos sighed wishing he had thought this out better instead of confronting the problem head on like he would have a battle. He had been thinking like a soldier and not a brother and now Aramis was the one paying the price of his folly. Well what was done was done and his own guilt could wait. Instead as Porthos guided Aramis back to his chair Athos replaced the glass of wine in their medic's hand with a rather good brandy he'd been saving. Well it was his fault the marksman was in so much pain and it was his duty to do what he could to alleviate it.

Porthos gently guided Aramis back to his chair before he sat down beside the other man, leaving his hand still on his shoulder. "Wha' happened 'Mis?" he questioned gently, squeezing his shoulder, encouraging him to talk. Judging from Aramis' reactions the man had been carrying his grief within him all these years. He wondered if the marksman had ever talked about this to anyone, ever taken the time to properly mourn his child. He had been sixteen years old. A child himself. And to lose your flesh and blood at that age. Porthos couldn't even imagine the grief and he felt tears well up in his own eyes at the thought of his brother, the man he loved the most in this world suffer so much agony.

From his other side he heard Athos' own soft spoken words. "We only wish to help you my friend".

It seemed his friends words were all that were needed for the dam inside his chest to burst and for the first time in what felt like forever Aramis found himself telling them everything. How he had while growing up in a border town met Isabelle, how he had thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world, how he had fallen in love, how insanely happy and terrified he had been at the thought of becoming a father, his hopes and dreams for the child and finally the grief, the unspeakable grief he felt first when he had lost the child and then when Isabelle had disappeared.

When he was done he felt exhausted, as if he had taken on an entire regiment of red guards singlehandedly. And lost. Strangely enough though the heavy burden in his heart had lessened somewhat.

His brothers had both remained blessedly silent during his confession and when he finally dared to look up at them he found his own grief mirrored in their eyes. It was almost his undoing.

Instead he forced himself to forget the past. To concentrate on the present. To think of the two men beside him who seemed to know him well enough to know what he needed when he himself hadn't been aware of it. And he had needed to talk about this loss before it ate his heart completely. He recognised that now.

Aramis acknowledged that the hurt would never heal completely. Agnes had been right when she had compared losing a child to an open wound that could never be treated. And neither would he want it to. He couldn't forget his child even if he tried.

What he could do though with the help of his brothers was move on. Give himself a chance to mourn the loss and actually look towards the future. And maybe one day he might by some miracle feel a similar joy to when he had held baby Henri.

After all where there was life there was hope.


End file.
